


Tell Yourself It's Just A Game

by trufield



Category: The Secret History of Twin Peaks - Mark Frost, Twin Peaks
Genre: I mean wow what a reaction Harry, Implied homophobia, M/M, Teen Angst, after TSHOTP this is all I can believe, one-sided Harry/Hank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 20:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11790408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufield/pseuds/trufield
Summary: A young Harry tries to clear his mind after his confrontation with Hank. The blood on his hands is too distracting.





	Tell Yourself It's Just A Game

Life, Harry decided bitterly, holding his hands under ice water, just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair he had to to feel this way about a man - let alone his best friend. That had been bearable but made him feel guilty about enjoying Hank's company. It hadn't always been that way. Harry wasn't sure what had changed. He only wished now that it hadn't. Wished he'd never met Hank at all. It wasn't fair they had to share a changing room and it wasn't fair that his stupid attachment made Hank's betrayal hurt so much more. 

He fought the tears from his eyes and was grateful his parents weren't home. He supposed he should also take solace in his loneliness in this situation - that no one had known or would ever know. He only hoped his extreme over-reaction hadn't given himself away. 

Frank knew of course. Only Frank. Frank knew him better than anyone. He'd caught Harry looking at Hank once and Harry had looked away too quickly, feeling the colour rise in his face. Frank hadn't mentioned it until they were in their way home together, just the two of them. 

“Harry.” 

It was all he had to say for Harry to know what he meant. There was no judgment in his tone, only a request for clarification.

“I'm not gonna do anything Frank. I won't.”

“Ok.”

Frank had put a firm hand on his shoulder and Harry had wanted to cry about it then too. He hadn't. He wanted Frank to tell him it was ok, that he could be with whoever he wanted, but he didn't. It wouldn't have been true and Frank was always honest. Hank didn't return the feeling and their father certainly wouldn't approve if he did. There was no comfort in truth though and Harry tried to make do with the contact Frank had provided instead. 

Harry looked at the water, now pink with the blood spilt from his cracked knuckles and Hank's blood that had smeared his skin. He couldn't feel his hands anymore. He wanted the rest of him to be that way too. To kill the raw volatility inside him with icy nothing. He exhaled a shaky breath. It was just a game. Sure, it lost them the championship, but what did that matter now? That had been months ago. This wasn't about the match no matter what Harry had shouted about. He couldn't even remember what he had said. It was personal. Hank had betrayed him. Harry had tried to believe it had been an honest mistake all this time - who would rig a football match? - but his bitter cocktail of feelings about Hank had boiled over. Maybe it hadn't been the best idea to drink around him but it was hard not to. 

It hadn't felt good, he got no relief from beating Hank so severely. Everyone else at The Bookhouse had frozen in shock when Harry had lept at him. Good, sweet Harry flying into a delayed rage about events from months ago. Frank had told him flatly that Harry may have beaten Hank to death if there hadn't been an intervention. Harry felt sick. 

What was happening to him? What had happened to Hank? Had he always been an awful person and Harry was too blind to see it? Had he laughed at him behind his back for his naivety? He clenched and unclenched his fists. He wished he was smarter. Stronger. More like Frank. 

He took his hands out of the water and drained it away. He grimaced at the damage, cuts and scabs now visible, the ache setting into the bones. He tried to think of a reason he could use for his outburst that would be believable. He gingerly dried his hands and could feel, despite his best attempts, deep down he still wanted someone to hold him. To tell him things were ok when they weren't. It wasn't fair. 

**Author's Note:**

> Can you imagine that Hank then goes on to collude with Josie... what a kick in the face...  
> Sort your tastes out Harry and stick with agents.


End file.
